I'll Catch You
by Seaside Stranger
Summary: Roxas starts his junior year at Destiny University struggling with the death of his best friend. He soon meets Axel, a senior who just won't leave him alone. Can Roxas make peace with his grief and let himself love again?  Drugs, abuse, sex, akuroku.
1. Chapter 1

It rained the day Sora died.

The day had started like any other; Roxas awoke to the blaring of his alarm, emerging bleary-eyed from the seductive warmth of his tangled sheets. Reaching toward the bedside table for his usual 'good morning' text, he noted with some alarm that he had 74 missed calls, all from the same number- Sora's house. He hastily hit the 'call' button, feeling more awake than he thought possible. When the line finally connected, it was to Sora's mother, her voice reed-thin and shaking with sobs. Her son had swallowed a cocktail of Zoloft, Xanax, and Vicodin, and washed it down with a fifth of Ketel One. It was sudden. No one expected the suicide- not even Roxas. After the call disconnected, Roxas stared numbly at the last text from Sora.

_love you roxxxi!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Two months later…_

Roxas stared out across the stormy ocean, a cigarette pinched nonchalantly between his fingers. His feet dangled over the edge of the pier. It wasn't a large drop, but for some reason he was still afraid of falling. Who knew what lurked beneath those choppy gray waters?

It hadn't rained yet, but the air was humid, a warning of the tempest to come. It wasn't the usual weather. The Islands were well-known for the beautiful climate. Brochures on the mainland boasted promises of a tropical Eden.

"Roxas!" a gender neutral voice called. "Stop contemplating your existence and come back to the room. We're making screwdrivers!"

Footsteps on the dock announced the arrival of Roxas' roommate, a flamboyantly homosexual junior named Marluxia.

"Not really in the mood," Roxas answered, never breaking his outward gaze. Marluxia pouted, taking a seat next to the smaller boy. Roxas noticed with some horror that he was wearing pink pinstriped skinny jeans.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Roxy." Marluxia's collarbone length locks, professionally dyed rose, were snatched at by the envious breeze.

"Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. Last time we partied, someone either pissed on my comforter or spilled something equally gross. Either way, fuck that."

"Oh, fine, we'll just stay on _my_ side. Or we can just plastic wrap the damn bed. Just come, okay? It's practically a fucking _tradition_. It's a new year, Roxas. I am only doing this because I care."

Roxas let the breeze carry the cigarette from his fingers. In the wind, it had burned down to the filter before he could make it to his third hit. He imagined he heard the faint hiss as it hit the water, floating there like a corpse.

"Right. Whatever." Roxas conceded, letting Marluxia drag him back to the dorms.

At the door, Roxas and Marluxia passed by their RA Luxord, a.k.a. Mr. 'don't-you-fucking-hold-out-on-me,' a notorious alcoholic with a blond goatee and multiple cartilage piercings. No one knew precisely how old he was or how he got the job, but Roxas estimated that he was somewhere in his mid-twenties and probably blackmailed somebody into his current position. The rules for their dorm, as laid out by Luxord himself, were simple: _"Rule number one, all drugs and alcohol must be checked in with me… once I know what you have, I don't give a fuck what you do with it, which brings us to rule number two… if I ask you to share, you better fuckin' share!"_

"What's up, kid?" Luxord addressed Roxas, lifting a plain white teacup smelling strongly of Earl Grey and vodka in his direction. Roxas nodded, flitting past him in order to keep up with Marluxia who was so used to having doors opened for him that he nearly shut the slammer on the petite blond.

"Sorry!" Marluxia chirped in repentance, not sounding as apologetic as he'd claimed, and dragged Roxas up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time.

By now, their dorm had filled to the point where the misguided party-going students had commandeered the rec room near Roxas' room. Naminé, a struggling bisexual artist/wiccan/ kleptomaniac, was on the couch nearby, a sketchbook open on her lap as she sketched her best friend/on-and-off girlfriend, a slender auburn-haired punk named Kairi. Crouched on the floor were the nature freaks, consisting of Aqua, Aerith, and Demyx. They were passing around a plastic baggie of mushrooms, taking turns making out. From a mismatched amalgamation of speakers in the corner, indie rock filled the room.

"I gotta give it to you. You really went all out on this one." Roxas remarked, ever reverent of Marluxia's social finesse.

"I'd have to agree with you there. Ooh, there's Larxene!" Marluxia disappeared into a crowd of stoners. Roxas sighed.

"Roxas! Long time no see!" He turned to see a familiar face, a green eyed girl with well-kept chestnut dreads and a septum piercing named Olette. She pumped his hand up and down, eyes overbright with some unknown drug.

"Oh, hey. Olette, right?"

"Yeah. We had freshman Lit together." Olette grinned. "I went off to Twilight College of Art and Design over the summer, but I hated it. Guess no one ever leaves Destiny University for long."

"I was thinking about dropping out." Roxas confessed, counting the squares of his checkered Vans.

"Dropping out? You were such a whiz kid in class. I don't think I ever scored higher than you on an essay." Olette gushed. "I mean, fuck, though. Dropping out. That takes some serious balls."

"Mhm." Though Roxas disagreed wholeheartedly, he wasn't in the mood to argue.

"So… dude, have you met my cousin yet? He decided to come back to school with me this year."

"You mean the one you always used to talk about? The one who tried to hang himself that one time?"

"Yup, that's the one." Olette seemed somewhat proud of this fact. "Oh, there he is. Axel! Over here!"

Roxas bit his lip as his eyes drank the stranger in. Axel had red hair- bright, cherry red, couldn't possibly be natural- and green eyes that cut right through him, looking almost neon through the black light someone had rigged in the hallway. He was tall, almost a head taller than Roxas, and skinny, his body reminding Roxas of a stray cat's. His hips were just visible over a pair of tight plaid pants and a studded belt, that pale slice of skin cut off by a green band shirt. Roxas was suddenly hyperaware of his slightly sweaty white and purple stripy raglan tee and unwashed navy skinny jeans. The dirt beneath his nails.

"Who's this?" Axel looked past Olette towards Roxas teasingly with a Cheshire grin.

Roxas could've died.

"I'll leave you two to get introduced. Gotta blaze." Olette thumbed over to a group of kids all holding joints sparking to life, and scampered off.

"Women. They're so indecisive, eh?" That fucking grin, showing off sharp canines, pretty teeth. "So, you here alone?"

"I'm… alone." Roxas didn't like the way that sounded. It sounded a bit too much like the truth. "I need a drink."

"Not much to drink anymore, I'm afraid. Fuckin' party crashers swiped all the booze. I've got some PBR in my room, if you want."

"Yes. I want. What did you say your name was again?"

"Axel." The redhead clarified with a little nod of his head. "And you're Roxas. Olette used to crush hard on you. Guess she was right."

_Right about what?_ Roxas wondered. _Right about what?_ He wanted to know, but he couldn't ask.

* * *

Axel's room was on the first floor on the side nearest to the parking lot and, eventually, the beach. On his door was a small dry erase board, bare but for the tattoos of words long erased and a small black etching of the anarchy symbol in the bottom right corner. Axel took his key out of his wallet, unlocked the door, and held it open for Roxas, letting the small blond into his room. It seemed like an incredibly personal gesture.

Axel's side of the room was in a state of casual disorder- no surprises there. A small alarm clock rested on the bedside table, along with a few half empty packs of Camel Crushes. Roxas tried not to blush as his eyes rested on a box of Trojans crammed at the top of the shelves built into the wall behind his bed. Axel had a surprising amount of books stuffed into the overcrowded space. On the other side of the room, Demyx was passed out in bed, snoring moderately loudly.

Axel bent over, exposing a slice of skin. Roxas tried not to stare, he really did. "Hm… so that's two beers. You hungry?"

"No, thanks." Roxas replied, forced politeness to cover up the humiliation warring with the curiosity inside him. When was the last time he'd let himself be interested in anyone?

"We could go down to the beach. I haven't been down there yet this year. If I lived here, I'd go to the beach every fucking day." Axel fixed Roxas with a predatory gaze, but somehow Roxas didn't feel afraid. He only felt the safe feeling of protection. Axel was thin, true, but he had the lanky muscles of someone who was used to defending himself. Was he strong enough to defend the both of them? Roxas wondered. He stared at the tattoos on Axel's cheeks, just little upside-down triangle marks that one might miss if they weren't paying attention. He wondered how Axel's skin would feel against his fingertips.

"I used to," Roxas offered numbly, half shyness, half regret.

* * *

The sandy beach seemed to glow bone white, though there was no moon out. The island didn't generate enough light by itself to drown out the stars like it did on the mainland, in the dirty city that Axel seemed to hate.

Axel could've easily been a couple steps ahead of Roxas, but he shortened his long stride in order to stay with the smaller boy. This touched Roxas, and suddenly he had the feeling that they were On a Date. It felt so good to be On a Date, but at the same time it felt like betrayal. Axel lit a roach as he stared up at the sky. Roxas watched the tip of it burn away. Axel didn't let go, not even when it must've burned his fingers to hold on. Suddenly, Roxas' chin was gripped gently in Axel's hand.

Axel bent down a little, pressing his lips to Roxas' own. He almost kissed back before he realized that Axel was coaxing his mouth open, blowing the pot smoke into his lungs. Shotgunning. Roxas felt the cool metal of a tongue piercing against his lip and shuddered. When Axel moved away, Roxas exhaled slowly, letting his tongue run across his chapped lower lip. It felt too good. It felt too much like being with him again.

Axel grinned at him, took a seat right there on the windy sand. The breeze was pleasant, not the spiteful thing that blew sand in eyes and tore at hair. Though the days on the Destiny Islands were sunny and sweaty, the nights were cool. Roxas let Axel pull him into his lap, gently chafing the warmth back into Roxas' chilly arms. Axel's lips lightly grazed the back of his neck and Roxas nearly whimpered. It felt so good.

These nights weren't supposed to belong to him alone. Since Sora died, each night had been filled with emptiness. Roxas felt Axel's hand trail from his shoulder to the back of his head, gently ruffling the hair there with his righty as lefty coaxed Roxas' fingers between his own. Roxas half expected to look down and see Sora's hand, the tattoos on each digit- antique keys, each one described by Sora and painstakingly drawn by Roxas, over and over until it'd been just right, just the way Sora wanted it. Sora and his obsession with keys, silver rings rusting and filled with them, leaving their strange smells on his fingers, like dirt and blood, and almost every night they'd go to the beach with a scarred red and white cooler filled with frosty Michelob Beach Bum Blonde Ales or Jose Cuervo and just talk. Now it was fall, and they didn't even sell Beach Bum anymore.

Roxas stood up, his heart feeling body slammed. This felt like adultery or something. No one could ever take Sora's place.

"You okay, kid?" Axel asked, looking confused. Perfectly thin red eyebrows, perfect crease of the forehead. Roxas never even got to touch those tattoos.

"I just remembered something… Um. I'm sorry." Roxas dashed off, his brain reeling from the potency of the pot. He ran and ran until he couldn't even see the lights of Destiny University. Though it seemed he was running randomly, just trying to put some serious distance between himself and everything else, he knew exactly where he was going. He stumbled into a small, picturesque place, hidden from the rest of the beach by plants that looked like little palm trees. There were rocks, taller than Roxas but not quite as tall as they'd seemed in childhood, and a small waterfall. Wedged in between the large, cold stones, there was a small entrance to a cave of sorts. Roxas ducked inside, straightening as he walked slowly deeper into the rocks.

Vines crawled along the wall like leafy wayfinders, dripping tiny night-blooming flowers. The air inside the secluded place was damp and cold. Roxas trailed his fingers along the wall as he walked absentmindedly, and almost immediately recoiled. The stone was so cold that it was painful.

He reached the innermost chamber, a small place that seemed infinitely more amazing when he and Sora had first discovered it. They'd made a pact not to tell anyone- well, except Riku. And Kairi. But that was it.

In the center of the room were the remains of a small fire, a makeshift fireplace within which the salt crusted logs were circled by stones. Against the wall, a locked trunk where they'd stashed their drugs. On top of that, a small, battery-operated CD player, and leaning against the trunk, a battered, almost black guitar case that held Sora's acoustic. Roxas hadn't yet dared to touch the battered leather. The last time Sora had played it was when Roxas came back from the hospital. His mom didn't want him to go out, but he'd waited till the wee hours of the morning and slipped out the window, still wearing those fucking blue hospital socks with the rubber on the bottom because they wouldn't let him keep his shoes, the hospital bracelet still around his wrist because none of the nurses had bothered to remove it. In a way, Roxas hadn't wanted them to remove it. It served as a warning to the world. _Look at me, I'm fucking crazy. Fuckin' nuts._

Roxas curled up on the floor, sobbing soundlessly. He knew exactly how he must've looked. Dirty blonde hair with a streak of what was supposed to be red in it, faded pink. Too skinny, body so ravaged by what had happened that he didn't know if he'd ever heal, if he'd just keep scarring, or if life would even have the common fucking decency to heal enough to just leave a scar, if his body would allow it. He was a gaping wound, broken and bruised and used up like a tube of toothpaste, all squeezed out.

He sat up, sniffling, and grabbed a bottle of Jack lying on the stone floor, drinking it like Lethean elixir.

* * *

On the way back, shivering in the cool air, Roxas spotted a girl in the water- Kairi. She kept her head above the water, skin looking pale blue in the night, and Roxas thought she might be naked because the water was practically see-through even at night, and he could see the glinting metal rings of her pierced nipples. When she spotted him, she swam towards the shore, emerging from the cold water like a punked-out Aphrodite with her heavy black cat eye liner and her lips painted the exact burgundy shade as her ass-length hair. She gathered her salt-stiff hair and squeezed the water out of it, splashing Roxas with little frigid drops. Roxas realized with some relief that she wasn't totally naked, but he figured that since the only thing she was wearing was a miniscule white thong, she got an 'A' for effort.

"Dude, can you pass me my jacket?" Kairi asked, her voice sounding hoarse with cold as she nodded toward a navy blue jacket, discarded on the sand by Roxas' feet. He tossed it to her wordlessly, and she zipped it up partway over her pale breasts. There was very little dignity left for either of them to uphold. Knowing someone practically since birth did that to a person.

"What the fuck were you doing out there? It's freezing." Roxas pointed out, watching incredulously as Kairi combed her fingers through her hair.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I don't really want to know." Kairi replied, her voice paper-thin. "Especially because I'm pretty sure I know exactly where you were and what you've been doing."

Roxas frowned, eyes tracing the points of the star of Kairi's tattoo. _Reverse tramp stamp,_ the Sora in his head corrected.

"… I miss him too." Kairi said, sudden and quiet as if she could read Roxas' thoughts. "I… it feels so wrong, making new friends… going on with life. Without him." She watched him with eyes filled with tears- eyes like wet jewels or sapphire flames, just like _his_, half-hidden beneath her diagonally cut bangs. As a kid, Roxas remembered his dad telling him that the blue part of the flame was the part that burned you the most.

The sudden press of Kairi's lips to his was not surprising in the least. This was the way she dealt with most things, and it had gotten her in trouble in the past, fucking strangers to make the pain end. For Roxas, fucking was just that. He'd had sex before, but it was nothing meaningful, and in fact the act itself had lost most of its meaning to him. It was just a way for two broken people to feel less broken, less distanced from everything else. It wasn't wrong, but it wasn't completely right, not the way right should've been, but who the fuck cared anymore? Sora was dead.

The tide pulled in and out as Kairi yanked his belt open, stroking him to life through his black boxers. Roxas made a small sound of gratification as Kairi's mouth locked on his shoulder, punishing the smooth white skin with licks and bites and sucks as she moved her panties aside, straddling Roxas and rocking against him with a sigh that sounded too much like relief. She did most of the work- she always did, looking down at him with eyes that belonged to someone else, filled with hate and lust.

Roxas closed his eyes as he pushed her off of him, coming against her stomach with a hiss.

* * *

The first day of class, and thank god Roxas only had two classes that day. He slithered out of bed that morning, still smelling like sex and the sea, and ran his fingers through his spiky hair a few noncommittal times before pulling on some jeans and a hoodie and slipping outside into the glaring afternoon sunshine, baking in his hangover.

He headed to the science hall and slipped into a seat in the back of Sociology 1101, tossing his messenger bag on the table. There were about a hundred students in the class, all seated in rows of chairs before large, room-length desks. At the front, beside a large white screen and overhead projector, the professor stood in front of a podium, her pencil skirt and ruffled business-chic blouse only drawing more attention to her curvy body and luscious tits.

Roxas jumped when he felt someone slide into the seat next to him.

"Nice, eh? I always did have a fetish for glasses." Axel crooned, referring to the catlike frames of the professor's glasses. He whistled as she bent over to pick up a notebook that one of the guys down below dropped, probably on purpose.

Roxas frowned. It was hard to get a read on the guy. He'd definitely been hitting on Roxas the other night- they'd practically kissed, for fuck's sake- yet here he was, mischievous emerald eyes fixed happily on _Mizz Lockheart's_ ass.

She handed around syllabuses, attempting to be taken seriously as she informed the class of the consequences of texting in the room, but no one was listening. The boys were too busy ogling her, and the girls were too busy glaring at said boys to pay attention to the victimized professor.

Soon, Ms. Lockheart's charm seemed to wear thin. No longer entranced by her fantastic body or melodious voice when she was talking about Piaget, students minimized their pages of notes on their laptops, surfing Facebook or checking inboxes. Roxas glared at the back of one girl's head as she commented on someone's status. College was too expensive to be pissing away on a social networking site.

Axel slid a note to him, scrawled on the corner of his notebook paper.

_Distracted? I have that effect on people._

Roxas rolled his eyes, praying that his cheeks didn't flush as he hastily made a reply.

_Y'know what's distracting me? That big fucking hickey on your neck._

Axel chuckled softly, scratching at the bruise. Roxas' heart ached.

_Jealous?_ Axel penned with a smirk that was not unkind.

Roxas didn't know. He scoffed, attempting to shove the notebook away, but Axel held it in place. It stayed, but the edges bent, wrinkled paper filled with Roxas' neat, small letters and Axel's messier ones.

_I want to know you. _Axel wrote sideways along the paper, the previous conversation filling up the corner. Ms. Lockheart dismissed the class, pouting slightly with the realization that she was nothing but eye candy for most of them.

"You do," Roxas mumbled, shouldering his messenger bag and melding with the rest of the students, crowding as they burst through the door with sighs.

* * *

Clouds had been rolling in all morning, and by the time Roxas was dismissed from his Photography class, it was pouring outside, tall palm trees swaying in the wind, their fruits dropping from the boughs to splinter windshields and scar paint jobs. Roxas headed to the cafeteria, loading up a take-out box with slices of pizza, cookies, and fries. Usually he preferred to eat outside or hole up in his dorm room to eat- it was too loud in the cafeteria, and the sight of the students' masticating was enough to make him nauseated. The rain and wind was such that if he left the building, his food would be swept right out of his hands. Instead, he opted for the broom closet at the bottom of the main staircase, a dusty and cramped room with a broken chair and a single bulb hanging from a wire attached to the ceiling.

Roxas shuffled inside the closet, clearing his throat and leaving the door ajar to filter out some of the dust that had accumulated since his last visit- an entire summer, and still no one thought to clean up. Maybe no one knew about the little room. Roxas took comfort in that thought as he pulled olives off his pizza. He sank back into the hard plastic chair, but not too much. The seat was cracked right down the middle, and with the right amount of pressure it would fold in two.

A soft knock at the door made him jump, thankfully in the opposite direction of the damaged desk.

"Got enough carbs there?" A silver haired boy stood in the doorway, a lustrous fall of sterling locks nearly concealing one of his sharp teal eyes.

Roxas clutched his take out box like it was a priceless gem he'd been caught stealing.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Roxas stammered, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Just visiting. We haven't talked in weeks." Riku shut the door behind him soundlessly, his gaze never wavering. "Why?"

"It's… I'm sorry." Roxas answered, feeling very small and forlorn. Feeling like prey.

"It's really fucked, what you're doing." Riku spoke, his words like poisonous barbs, and Roxas was tangled up in them. Helpless. "You just left me to deal with what happened. Some friend you are."

"You… you remind me of him. What was I supposed to do?" Roxas explained softly, chalky foam yielding beneath his grip with small cellophane creaks. "I couldn't even look at you without-"

"Without _what_?" The force of Riku's clout took his breath away, knocking him to the floor, the box tumbling out of his hands and into the corner, forgotten. Roxas blinked, heard the ocean in his head.

He watched quietly as Riku left.


	3. Chapter 3

They'd found him on the shoreline.

Sora, beautiful and still, sprawled in the sand like Endymion or just a washed up piece of driftwood with the bottle of Ketel One gripped in his hand, half full or half empty. To Roxas, it seemed criminal to move the body from where a teenage couple found it on the beach that pale gray morning, but by the time he'd made it to the spot, breathing hard and running stop signs like the apocalypse was on his heels, there was nothing but churned sand and the inappropriately calm sea, torn edges of inappropriately neon-bright police tape fluttering in the breeze.

Then there was the funeral. Sora's mom picked the best funeral parlor on the mainland, in the city, and it took two ferries and a bus ride for Roxas to make it there, sitting across from a filthy homeless man that eyed Roxas' ill-fitting secondhand tux sourly as someone's baby cried.

The funeral was open-coffin. It was the most torturous event that Roxas had ever experienced. Someone had removed the ring in Sora's lip and covered the hole. His sun kissed skin was bleached of color, as if death had stolen his former beauty, replacing it with something cold and untouchable. When no one was looking, Roxas touched the tattoos on Sora's fingers, one by one, and he'd wanted so badly to see Sora's scarred forearms, riddled with cigarette burns and horizontal cuts, but someone had decided to put him in a suit. Roxas half expected this stranger to sit up in the coffin, shaking white flower petals from his unruly chestnut hair, and offer him a business card.

Roxas spent most of the funeral in the cramped bathroom at the back, staring up through his tears at the rain beating against the tiny stained glass window above the toilet as he vomited. He should've been the one to give the eulogy. He hadn't even made it through the rent-a-minister's introduction before the revulsion set in. Sora's mom had asked him to stand, to say a few words about Sora, but there were too many words, too many memories, to condense into a fifteen minute period. How could Roxas describe those endless summers under the sun? Sora's own mother didn't know a thing about her son in comparison.

He'd managed to emerge from the bathroom just as they'd closed the coffin. Sora didn't have much family- only an old, old woman claiming to be Sora's grandmother who offered Roxas hard bits of peppermint from a large plastic purse. There was no father to help carry the coffin. Only hired pallbearers and feigned solemnity.

They buried him in dark soil, encasing the coffin in cement, ensuring that no one could ever disturb his rest. As if he might wake up at any second.

Roxas pictured it in his head and hated himself for it.

* * *

"Dude, check this shit out."

Marluxia had snatched one of Zexion's textbooks out of his hands and was currently dangling it in front of Roxas' face, obscuring his game of Dead Rising 2. Roxas quickly jabbed the 'start' button to pause it.

"I'm killing the undead here." Roxas glowered, pushing the book out of his face in annoyance. His eye was still bruised a little, his cobalt gaze vivid and otherworldly against the purple-black skin.

"No, just listen. 'Traumatic insemination. The male Harpactea Sadistica spider has a needle sharp penis. When he mates with a female, he incapacitates her with a bite, then severs the body cavity of the female.' It's like the serial killer of spiders."

Roxas looked at him blankly. "More like the rapist of spiders."

"Both, probably," Marluxia amended, sitting on Zexion's lap. "So, anyway, Roxas… you need to leave now."

"It's my room, too." Roxas defended, un-pausing his game and weaving his character through the horde. He cursed as his character was grabbed from behind by what looked like a former hooker.

"True, but unless you want to bear witness to a little traumatic insemination of our own-"

"Dude!" Roxas cut him off in exasperation, powering off his console and shouldering his messenger bag, slamming the door on the way out.

* * *

Roxas sat on the dock at his usual spot, his pen hovering over a blank page in his sketchbook. Most artists preferred to use a more forgiving medium when sketching, but Roxas believed that mistakes happened for a reason.

His eyes swiveled upward and watched the waves lazily. He allowed his mind to wander, seeking a face to render. He found himself imagining acid green eyes and coppery spikes. Unthinkingly, he flipped the cap off the pen and began to sketch the outline of a pointed chin, an artistic nose just the right size for his face. Upside-down triangle tattoos on his pale cheeks, and high, thin brows. That lazy smirk, that expression of-

"Ahem."

Roxas nearly pitched his sketchbook into the sea. He hurriedly covered the drawing with one hand and whipped around, the color high in his cheeks.

"What the fuck?" Roxas fumed, shoving the sketchbook under his ass and out of sight. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long." The tall redhead admitted, crouching down and resting his chin on Roxas' shoulder. "I didn't know you were an artist."

"I'm not." Roxas mumbled testily.

"Yeah, and I suppose you're not argumentative either." Axel raised an eyebrow, leaning his cheek against the blonde's. Roxas _really_ wished he wouldn't do that.

"Nope," Roxas replied, almost wishing that he _had_ dropped his sketchbook. At least then there wouldn't have been any incriminating evidence.

Axel laughed a little, giving Roxas some space. "I didn't mean to scare you, kid. I wanted to ask you something."

_I'm not a fucking kid,_ Roxas found himself thinking, but at the same time he was admittedly curious. "You… me?"

"Um, yeah." Axel sat down, keeping his distance in a way that made Roxas thankful. "I was gonna ask why you ran off the other night. Do I creep you out or something?"

_Yes._ "Uh, no, not really." Roxas felt his defenses ease. Axel seemed genuinely concerned. "It wasn't you. I'm just… dealing with something right now."

"Maybe I could help." Axel offered a small smile devoid of anything taunting or teasing.

"I don't think there's much you could do about it unless you know how to raise the dead." Roxas laughed weakly, inappropriately. Axel's smile dissolved.

"Tell me about it." Axel implored softly.

Roxas hated telling others about what happened. Predictably, every time he told his story, their eyes filled with sympathy he didn't want… but Axel's eyes were devoid of any recognizable emotion. He was a blank slate, ready to hear the truth.

"My best friend died." It seemed a comically simple statement to describe his inner turmoil, but Axel seemed to get the point.

"Fuck." Axel swore, staring at the waves with something like regret. "How long were you friends?"

"Since we were little kids. We used to play here on the beach. We'd play with Kairi and Riku…" Roxas trailed off uncomfortably. Talking about Sora in the past tense felt like denying there was anything left of him.

"Was it sudden?" Axel pressed gently, trying in vain to meet Roxas' deceptively calm gaze.

"Very." The blond gave a small nod, picking at his thumb nail in discomfort.

"I don't know if this is too personal, but… how did he-" Axel began.

"He killed himself." Roxas all but whispered, his voice breaking on the word 'killed,' but that was the awful truth of it. Sora had killed himself, killed himself and left Roxas to pick up all the pieces.

Axel became silent, gnawing at a thumbnail and watching Roxas stare at the ocean with his hands shaking.

"Do you miss him?" Axel murmured.

"I wish I didn't," Roxas answered honestly.

Axel nodded like he understood, and Roxas didn't really care whether he did or didn't because it made him feel better. Like it was okay to be this torn up about it, even though Roxas wasn't exactly sure what he should be feeling anymore.

"Tried that once. Killing myself." Now it was Axel's turn to stare at the sea, a frightening mockery of a grin on his face. "Didn't work, no matter how many times I tried… and I tried a lot."

Roxas imagined it distantly- Axel, hanging from a beam, an extension cord wrapped around his neck like jewelry, Axel swallowing handfuls of pills, Axel neatly slitting his wrists.

"If you really wanted to, you'd be dead." Roxas retorted, no trace of venom in his tone.

"I don't think so. Lots of people try and fail. The point is… well, I don't believe in God, but there's gotta be a reason why I'm here. Everyone has a reason for existing. I just have to find it."

"He had a reason." Roxas pressed.

"Maybe he didn't see it that way, kid. Sometimes people are just too sick for you to fix." Axel rubbed the blond's shoulder comfortingly, his long fingers curling easily around Roxas' slight frame. Roxas tensed, turning back to his drawing, and Axel's fingers withdrew, leaving a significant absence.

"What the fuck do you know, anyway?" Roxas hissed, pen pressing on the paper hard enough to tear.

"… Come by my room later when you're ready to talk." Axel spoke after a time, and Roxas counted his footfalls on the swollen wood of the dock- nine.

Roxas never came by.

* * *

Roxas nearly yelped as someone approached him from behind, sucking at his earlobe briefly.

"Fucking A, you know I can't tell who's sneaking up on me in a cafeteria full of people…" Roxas lamented.

"Surprised to see you here. I thought you hated group mastication."

It was Kairi, looking uncharacteristically happy and dressed in a lavender skirt and white lace top that Roxas remembered seeing on her a long time ago. Lately, she'd taken to wearing darker clothing and makeup. Her bare face looked unexpectedly sweet after months of heavy black liner and dark shadow. She placed her tray down beside Roxas, taking a seat. Roxas was glad to see that she was actually eating something today.

"You would pick today to look mundane, wouldn't you?" A petite sophomore named Xion joined their table. It was the Friday before Halloween, and while most of the student body seemed to be engaged in a Who Can Be the Biggest Slut contest, as Kairi put it, Xion seemed to have misplaced the memo, dressed innocently in a frilly red Lolita top and a calf-length black skirt. She was small, even with three inches of heels on her black leather boots, and looked like a pixie with her short raven hair, charcoal eyeliner and lips like wine. It would've been a welcome sight, had Xion not been Sora's sister.

Xion seemed like she was over it already, but Roxas knew that had to be impossible. Xion had always been best friends with her brother, though they had their petty fights. For a long time, Xion had been separated from Sora, staying with her father while Sora stayed on the islands with her mother. Though they both had the same mother, Sora and Xion didn't share a father. At least, Roxas thought, Xion had the chance to meet her father. Sora's had gone missing not long after his birth.

"I just feel a lot better today." Kairi explained with a shy smile. Roxas' mind instantly went back to that night on the beach, and he felt a surge of guilt. Kairi had just recently gotten enough scholarship checks to pay for a room in the dorms, and in the meantime she'd dealt with an abusive father. Kairi hadn't seen a trace of her mother since she split when Kairi was seven. Part of Roxas wondered if Kairi's sex addiction was because she equated sex with love. A bigger part of him knew that she was addicted because the only time Kairi didn't feel worthless was when she was getting fucked.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Kairi asked, interrupting his thoughts. Roxas flushed slightly, as if she could read his mind.

"Don't know yet. Probably nothing. Halloween's not really a big deal for me anymore."

"You liar," Kairi accused with a smile. "I remember when we were kids, you and Sora and Riku would go from house to house with fucking _pillowcases_. By the time our parents made us come inside, yours would always be the most full."

Roxas smiled faintly, nibbling at the edges of a sandwich before dropping it back onto his tray.

"If you're too old for trick or treating, you could always come to our show." Xion rooted around in her backpack, producing a lime green flyer. Roxas scanned it in disbelief; there, with a bass cradled in his arms, was Axel, leaning against Demyx who was holding a black and white Fender Stratocaster. Xion was in the background, drumsticks behind her ears. Even though the photograph shouldn't have done anyone any justice with its grainy black and white print, Roxas felt his heart leap. _Seaside Strangers play Samhain- MIDNIGHT ONLY._

"No way. Axel's in a band?" Kairi peeked over Roxas' shoulder.

"Yeah, with me and Dem. You should totally come. Bring Naminé." Xion offered. "We do covers mostly, but we just finished this cool song-"

"Can I come?" Roxas interrupted, color high in his cheeks.

"Yeah? I can even get you in for free if you don't wanna pay the $5 cover. You should sing with us, Roxie." Xion smirked. "Free shows for life."

Roxas frowned, getting up and shouldering his backpack.

* * *

Roxas arrived at the smoky, crowded club about half an hour before the band was supposed to play. It was purely for sentimental purposes; Sora had been somewhat of a regular here, dragging Roxas across the beach grass and small dunes, on his way to inebriation or practically vibrating with the high he got from the herbal ecstasy that Kairi shared with them.

The very first thing Roxas did when he sat down at the bar was flash the bartender his fake ID and order a shot of Smirnoff cranberry vodka, "and keep them coming." A band was on stage, but it wasn't the one he'd come to see. Three beautiful boys- a singer with a shiny black bass, a drummer, and a keyboarder, with fiercely jade eyes regarded the crowd as if they were so many cockroaches, lower than them. The singer, with chin length hair the color of a new dime, sang about blindfolds and submission. Roxas spotted Marluxia in the crowd, dancing and eyeing the lead singer with something akin to worship.

"I hate this new wave shit," Demyx shook his head with a faint smile, materializing out of the crowd and taking a seat next to the blond. Roxas was surprised to see Demyx looking so… _alive_. Demyx seemed pretty shy and out of it most of the time, but before a show, his cheeks flushed with anticipation, and his eyes seemed bluer than ever, like backlit cobalt.

_Why must everyone in this god damn town have such pretty fucking blue eyes?_

"So what do you guys play?" Roxas inquired, already on his third shot.

"We play _rock and fucking roll_, Roxas. The only music meant to be played."

Roxas grinned, handing Demyx a shot, who promptly downed it with a nod of gratitude.

The mic gave a few squeals of feedback as the pewter haired kids finished their song. There were screams and applauds from the audience, and the keyboardist, with his waist length locks, nudged a girl who was attempting to climb up the stage with the tip of his shiny vinyl boot. They exited stage left with mysterious come-hither smiles.

"Shit, we're up. Gotta go, Roxas." Demyx leapt up and rushed to the stage. Roxas watched silently, his head spinning a little from the shots. His eyes widened a bit as the band filed onto the stage.

Xion came first, twirling her drumsticks as she skipped over to her set, flashing a smile with lips painted sanguine, eyes like black smoke. In her ears, silver earrings dangled like shining daggers. Axel followed, with his bright emerald gaze intensified by dark liner and some unknown intoxication, torn blue skinny jeans leaving little to the imagination and baring his jutting pale hips. Demyx was the last, climbing up onto the stage from the crowd, and Axel handed him his guitar with a faint smile, wrapping his callused fingers around the microphone stand, adjusting its height.

"We are Seaside Strangers," Axel murmured into the microphone.

Xion tapped the cymbals four quick times and broke into a vaguely punk beat. Axel and Demyx began playing, each falling into tempo with the other, and Axel sang.

There was a faint clinking of glass as Roxas let his shot glass roll across the bar. Axel picked away at his bass, that cigarette-rough voice filling the inside of Roxas' head with shadows and light. The song was about fucking in the library, a girl who didn't want him.

_Never thought I would come of age, let alone on a moldy page…_

The crowd loved them, pogoing to the beat of Xion's drums, and she and Demyx started singing too, Xion's soprano making the words chilling.

_Don't check me out, don't check me out, don't check me out._

Raw desire pooled in Roxas' stomach as he watched Axel croon the lyrics into the steel phallus of the microphone, his lips brushing the tip of it slightly. There was fire in Axel's gaze, white hot and searing, and he licked his lips as he alternated between singing and playing, picking out careful notes to complement the swelling music within him.

The feeling Roxas got when the song ended was akin to physical pain.

* * *

Roxas was nursing his fourth shot when Axel sidled up to the bar, leaning casually against a post near Roxas' stool. Roxas glowered at him, but didn't have enough energy to do it well enough. To Axel, he looked like a disgruntled old cat.

"I guess you wouldn't be happy to see me," Axel stated carefully, plucking the shot glass from Roxas' grip and draining it. "Ugh, you lose man points for drinking this shit."

"It's vodka." Roxas argued. "Vodka is vodka."

"You're right… but straight liquor and… _this_… well, they're different."

"Do you always have to have the last word?" Roxas asked quietly, his back stiffening.

Axel grinned, taking a seat next to the blonde. "I like you."

"See? Always! And now you're being _weird_." Roxas huffed, cheeks flushed. "You'd have more friends if you weren't so weird."

"So would you." Axel replied gently, closing the distance between them as he caressed Roxas' warm cheek. "But we both know weirdness is relative. And it makes everything more fun. Never a dull moment and all that bullshit."

"You never told me you could play." Roxas' tone was accusatory, but not unkind.

"You never asked, and you're drunk." Axel dropped his hand, pinching the shot glass between his long fingers. Roxas admired their calluses and bitten ends.

"So?"

"So I'll give you a ride home." Axel offered.

Axel's car was a really shitty powder blue Toyota Camry with a rust streaked hood. The passenger side window didn't quite close all the way, and in order to open the rear door it was necessary to open the front door first. The leather interior was overstuffed, and the entire car smelled like the sea.

Roxas loved it.

He spent most of the ride leaning against the cracked window, the salty sea air making a mess of his already frazzled looking blond spikes, but the coolness felt good against his overheated skin. Roxas watched the cloudy moon and let his eyes slowly drift closed, slipping into a dream.

_The telltale jingle of the chains on Sora's pants notifying his arrival. The summer where he wore black turtlenecks even in the daytime so no one would see the scars. Those big, sparkling fucking blue moon eyes pulling him in like the tide, like when they were eight and Roxas fell out of a tree, arm broken in three places because Sora had climbed it, and if Sora did it, Roxas fucking followed._

"_Why haven't we had sex yet?" Sora had bluntly asked one stormy night about six months before he died, fingers idly combing through Roxas' hair; their first time, Roxas' first ever, fumbled and clumsy and perfect on Sora's mattress._

"You okay?"

Roxas jerked up, surprised to see the lights of his dorm outside.

"You fell asleep, I guess." Axel murmured, laying the back of his hand against Roxas' forehead. "Feeling feverish? Or was it just a good dream?"

"Something like that," Roxas mumbled his thanks for the ride, lurching inside after refusing Axel's offer of assistance.

Axel watched his retreat, his smile dissolving.


	4. Chapter 4

Guess what? I remembered to do an intro this time. Anyway, thank you SO much for the reviews thus far. Believe it or not, reviews are what feeds my creative fires. No joke. If you take the time to add this story to your favorites, then by golly you should review it. That is, if you want to see more/faster/better writing.

Haha, that sounds like a threat, but it's totes legit.

But some of you DID review, so you guys are awesome.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This? Yeah, it isn't mine. Except the writing. That's all me.

* * *

Roxas hated winter.

He hated how the frigid mornings left his hands feeling like leathery gloves, the wind leaving them rough, knuckles cracked and bleeding. He hated how his breath fogged before him as he walked from building to building because it reminded him of smoking and made him want- _need_ a cigarette. He hated how some of the girls managed to get away with wearing cutoffs and tank tops and still preserved their tan, instead of the corpse blue color that Roxas associated with the season. Though coastal winters were known for being mild at best, it was the only winter Roxas had ever known. These were the days when he used Marluxia's expensive coffeemaker to make cup after cup of black elixir, shuddering at the bitter taste, but at least it was warm.

The only redeeming quality of the season was the silence. Any and all tourists had long ago left the islands, preferring to spend their holidays in the iron confines of the city. The sand on the beach was pale and undisturbed, like the exposed skin of a lover's thigh.

Roxas ran his hands through it, feeling each and every grain against his skin, and remembered.

* * *

"So then I was like, 'bitch, I don't give a flying _fuck_ what you think. One day we'll make it big.'" Demyx complained, the harshness in his voice sharply contrasting with the sweet sounds he coaxed from his acoustic. Apparently his almost-girlfriend had left him the night before.

"Uh huh." Roxas shifted his head in Demyx's lap, listening to his soft strumming. "Fuck her, man. She was probably just pissed that you wouldn't pay for her dinner every time."

"I know that, Rox. And don't get me wrong, it feels awesome to have someone agree with me. But I feel inclined to inform you that if your face comes any closer to my crotch, well… I'm not that desperate."

Roxas gave him a small grin, shoving Demyx so the chord he was attempting to play erred.

"Stop," Demyx laughed, strumming a few more chords as if to reciprocate for the botched notes. "_… I felt a love of such deafening weight, dangling from a balustrade of shilly-shally… _I mean it, Rox… _overlooking infinity and this ecstasy of you lying next to me…_"

Roxas gave a small sigh, fiddling with the edges of a hole in the knee of Demyx's jeans, listening. He closed his eyes, clutching the worn denim lightly as he let the music fill his head and his heart.

"So what are you thinking about?" Demyx asked in between soft hums and softer strums.

"Axel," Roxas blurted without thinking. He opened his eyes tentatively, watching Demyx peer down at him knowingly.

"Well, obviously. You were totally eye-fucking him at the show. Have you no shame?" He teased, shaking blond hair out of his china blue gaze.

"Probably not. It's been so long… y'know? I'm afraid." Roxas admitted, pulling more insistently at the thick threads escaping from the knees of Demyx's jeans.

"It's always scary to fall in love. A little, anyway. Do you think it's love?" Demyx questioned, cocking his head as he ascended from a C chord to an E, making the song sound unfinished.

"I don't know if I want it to be," Roxas said quietly, letting his bent knees relax and hang off the edge of the marble fountain they were seated upon.

Demyx smiled, a ghost of a grin, prophetic and knowing.

"It gets better."

* * *

Minutes succumbed to hours, surrendered to days, gave way to weeks. Boredom found Roxas seated in a barstool at the far end of the counter at the small, cramped club where Axel's band played almost a month ago, and they'd forgotten to take down the flyers, tacked haphazardly to the battered-looking wall with its chipped red paint and push-pin scars. The bartender, an outspoken girl with purple eyeliner and snakebites, had taken somewhat of a liking to Roxas. She tried to coax him out of his shell with small talk and Smirnoff Ice "on the house"—neither coerced him. Taking the hint, she retreated to the opposite side of the bar, dolefully cleaning shot glasses with a filthy bar rag. It was a shame, really. She was attractive and seemed sweet. Roxas finished his fourth bottle.

"Hey, hey." Roxas jumped as a lanky redhead slipped into a seat beside him, grinning that same grin, eyes flickering with laughter.

"Fucking _fuck_, Axel!" Roxas hissed. "You have _got _to quit scaring me. And stalking me. What are you, a secret agent?"

"So you _do_ think you're important? You had me fooled." Axel replied smoothly, glancing over at Roxas' drink and spinning it so the label faced him. "Gah, it just gets worse and worse with you. Enough with the chick drinks. That shit's like beer with a crazy straw."

"Beer tastes like piss." Roxas defended, rescuing his drink.

"So what are you doing for the holidays?" Axel asked suddenly with a conspiratorial glance.

"Stop changing the subject." Roxas said. Even though he had nothing more to add to the alcohol discussion, it felt good to disagree with Axel.

"Then stop being contrary. It makes it so much more fun to mess with you when you're contrary." Axel explained. Roxas watched his tongue ring flash when he talked, entranced. "So, out with it. What are your plans?"

"I was going to go back home for Christmas."

"Thought you lived around here?" Axel questioned.

"I used to. My mom moved a couple weeks before school started." Roxas replied neutrally. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the bartender glancing over her back in their direction, furiously wiping at a beer stein, jealousy burning slowly in her gaze.

"You don't have any plans for tonight though, right?" Axel pressed, crossing his legs and drawing attention to his jutting hip bones and shiny black vinyl combat boots.

"Not at the moment," Roxas licked at his lip ring. Axel's eyes followed the small movement, catlike and predatory. Under Axel's scrutiny, Roxas felt like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, and he couldn't get enough of it. A shiver of pleasure rippled through his spine.

"Then com e to my room later. We can have a couple drinks, smoke a few bowls." Axel offered. "Or we can just watch movies. Whatever you want. "

"_Whatever I want sounds good,"_ was what Roxas wanted to say. Instead, he settled on a single nod, slowly peeling the label off of the bottle he'd been nursing.

* * *

Roxas turned up in front of Axel's door at eight o'clock. They'd never agreed on a specific time, but Axel seemed more like a night person. The door was deeply scarred from years of misuse and kicking, but Axel had covered up the worst of it with stickers bearing band logos and witticisms such as _"I think, therefore I'm dangerous"_ and _"Wake me at 4:20."_

Roxas knocked on the door twice before there was any response. Just as he was beginning to wonder why, exactly, he'd bothered coming, Axel turned up in a button up black shirt and a pair of dark navy jeans. His eyes looked oddly overbright, accented by black liner and tiny tattoos, auburn lashes standing out starkly against the darkness of his eyes. He looked like he'd gotten a head start on smoking.

Roxas' eyes trailed down Axel's chest, remaining on an inky line trailing across his chest. "Do you have a tattoo on your boob?"

Axel grinned, somehow managing to transmute the jibe into a compliment. "It's _yi_. Means loyalty to brotherhood." He pulled his shirt down so Roxas could have a look. The beautiful symbol was slashed across his heart like a promise. Roxas found his face growing hot.

"Wanna kiss it?" Axel offered, smiling craftily.

"No way," Roxas frowned, staring at Demyx, who was strumming away as usual on the top bunk. For some reason he wished they could've been alone.

"Don't worry, I'll be out of here as soon as I get this chord down." Demyx spoke up, smiling lightly as he scribbled on a pad of manuscript paper. Roxas blushed, gratefully accepting the cool glass of a pipe against his lips when Axel handed it to him. He took a hit, trying not to cough. He wondered where Axel had gotten such good weed. As he pressed the leaves into the pipe, their earthy, spicy scent seemed to cling to his fingertips.

Roxas passed it back to Axel after a long exhale. He watched as Axel effortlessly lit it with his cheap plastic lighter, one of many scattered around the room. The glow from the fire made Axel's face look lupine and beautiful. Demyx gathered his things and stuffed them into a paint-splattered messenger bag, evading the pot smoke as if it were poison.

"Gotta get shit done for music, then I'm starting my final research paper, so I'm pulling an all-nighter at the student union. You two be good." Demyx waved merrily before slamming the door.

"So, what's the plan?" Axel asked, sinking down into the secondhand couch against the wall.

"The beach," Roxas breathed.

The moonlight coming off the rolling waves was so beautiful it ached. Roxas gripped Axel's hand tightly. After smoking a few bowls, Roxas always had the same dizzy feeling, like he might float away if something wasn't tethering him to the ground. Roxas leaned heavily against Axel, but he didn't seem to mind. The redhead lit a Marlboro Smooth, exhaling silvery sex incarnate. Roxas shivered.

"Let's sit down. We can just watch." Axel sat, pulling the blond into his lap. Roxas was hyperaware of the heat Axel emanated, though every touch seemed dull when he was this high.

"Don't let go," Roxas cautioned, scooting closer, feather-light.

"Won't," Axel mumbled, nuzzling Roxas' hair with his cheek.

Roxas tilted back, and their lips met.

It was good- so fucking good. After months of seclusion and awkwardness around anyone who'd ever been interested, it felt like coming back to life. Roxas reached up, gently clutching strands of spiky cinnamon in his shaky fists. He felt a hand trail his collarbone, stroke his stomach.

_Same scene, different players, and what about the promise you made? Have you already moved on? Already… forgotten?_

Roxas whipped up, nearly knocking his forehead against Axel's. He breathed heavily, filled with the overpowering salty-sweet scent of the sea, the musk of good weed.

"Roxas?" Axel said, and it felt more like an answer than a question. Without someone to hold, Roxas felt like he was drifting, his sense of gravity and homeostasis completely gone. He felt like curling up on the sand, felt like getting as close to motionlessness and solid earth as he could.

"Don't run. Please." Axel looked at him pleadingly.

Tears stung Roxas' azure eyes. His cheeks were florid, his chest heaving as if he'd run a long distance. The heaviness of loss settled over him like a wet cloak.

"I'm sorry…" Roxas whispered into the brine-thick wind. He was sorry, so very fucking sorry, because he knew he was ready for this. Knew he wanted Axel like he'd never wanted before. Knew that he still felt Sora's presence in every kiss. Knew that it broke his heart, again and again. It felt like betrayal, cold and calculated.

He ran, skin whipped raw by tears and the salty, caustic wind.

* * *

After that night, Axel seemed to give up on his faithful pursuit of Roxas, and the blond didn't blame him. Roxas had _baggage_; well, that was how Marluxia had put it when he'd comforted Roxas after he'd gotten home that fateful night, three sheets to the wind on 4 Lokos and vomiting intermittently. Axel, Marluxia promised, would still be there when Roxas was sure of himself.

Two weeks had passed since then, and Axel had already moved on.

Roxas had spotted him on Pac Ave- Pacific Avenue, for those who weren't familiar with the island. He'd been with a guy from their school, a senior named Cloud. Cloud's blue eyes and spiky blond hair were not lost on Roxas. He found it both touching and maddening- and speaking of _touching_, they'd been awfully friendly with one another. Roxas felt something akin to physical pain when their lips met, though he found himself interested in their relationship. Both boys seemed to be able to hold their own; in short, he wondered which of them was the more dominant.

At night, warm in his bunk, Roxas stroked himself imagining that battle of dominance.

But that didn't make it any less painful.

Feeling sorry for himself, Roxas decided to go to one of Aqua's infamous parties, the last of which onloy concluded after two phone calls to the police and a wailing patrol car to boot. Aqua's parents lived close by, and they were the sort of people that did pretty much whatever the teal-haired girl suggested in an effort to remain part of her life. Apparently, her parents hadn't been around much when she was a child. Unbeknownst to them, Aqua planned to milk them for all they were worth and move to one of the overpopulated cities on the mainland with a wallet full of cash, where they would never find her. There, she would pose as a nude model for struggling artists or become a freelance photographer. She hadn't decided yet.

Her parents left their mansion-like home in Aqua's less-than-capable hands, piling into their silver BMW and speeding off toward the mainland, looking for a good distraction. Roxas arrived just as they were peeling out of the driveway, unsure smiles on their faces. Roxas made a mental note to never have children.

"Hey, Roxas." Aqua greeted him, leaned against the doorway. She watched him blearily, an unsure stoner's grin painted on her pale face. She was dressed in a cobalt minidress with one strap and a flowing skirt with a slit up the side. Aqua's parties were always the sort that called for one's best- or strangest- attire. Roxas had defaulted on the rule, settling for a pair of skinny jeans, checkered Vans, and a faded Blink-182 tee.

It was going to be a long night.

Shortly after Roxas arrived at the house which could only be described as a mansion, an influx of Des-U students began pouring in through the well-polished chestnut doors. Kairi and Naminé lounged on the white leather couch, cupping each other's faces as they kissed hungrily. Roxas watched with mild envy as he curled on the carpet before the fireplace in which a couple drunk sophomores were attempting to roast marshmallows.

He sighed inwardly, wondering if a party was the best idea right now. Truth be told, he'd only showed up with the unlikely hope that somehow, Axel might show up. So far, though, a few hours had passed, and the only redhead here was Kairi. Once, Roxas would've accepted her as a satisfactory replacement.

He wondered where those feelings had gone.

On the verge of leaving, Roxas was surprised to feel a pair of warm hands blind him.

"Guess who?" A masculine voice teased, breath tickling Roxas' ear. Roxas felt his cheeks growing warm, and before he knew it, he'd gently pulled those callused hands away, turned around with Axel's name on his lips, and- "It's been awhile, huh?" the voice said.

Roxas felt both elated and disappointed as he met Terra's eyes.

"Terra," Roxas breathed with a sad smile. "You've gotten bigger."

Terra smiled winningly. "And I think you've gotten shorter."

Terra had been Roxas' only friend when he'd been locked away. Somehow, Roxas' mother had caught her son in the bathroom, jeans around his legs as he sat on the toilet in his boxers, pressing a box cutter into his thigh. The reason for Terra's stay hadn't been nearly as trivial, though their experience in the hospital was remarkably similar in its torment. Terra had been incarcerated for stabbing his step-father in the chest with a letter opener.

Though what he'd done seemed inhuman, Terra was a loving person at heart, with clear blue eyes and shaggy chestnut hair. His slightly tanned skin contrasted sweetly with the beauty of his smile. He had Sora's coloring, which Roxas had always liked, and Axel's physique- perhaps a bit more muscular.

"Not that small." Roxas mumbled, surrendering to Terra's rough embrace.

"I've missed you." Terra admitted, holding Roxas out at arm's length, studying him. Roxas tried not to stare too much at his long, spiky eyelashes. "You're… your hair's got pink in it."

Roxaa laughed, the sound muffled by Terra's sudden kiss.

He wanted to run, he wanted to stay. For the moment, he was entranced by the brunette's scent, Axe and sweat and cigarettes. It was scary, to be like this around so many people. At the same time, though, it took Roxas back; all the way back to those breathless nights at the hospital, when Terra would hold him at night until he fell asleep. They'd been roommates, friends , and more than friends when the misery was too much for either of them to bear. Terra had been Roxas' friend when Sora was incapable of being there for him- physically, mentally, emotionally.

"Rox-" A voice, cut off. Roxas turned mid-kiss, Terra's hands strong where they gripped his hips, just in time to catch a glimpse of betrayed-looking green eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Soon, the rainy season came to the islands.

Roxas would stand in the torrent of tropical warmth, face upturned to a grey and unpromising sky. He hadn't talked to Axel in three weeks.

The lukewarm drops of rain began to feel like tears running down his cheek.

* * *

"What in God's name are you so depressed about?" complained Marluxia, pacing the dorm room as if it were a police department's interrogation room. "You have your whole life ahead of you. Break's coming up. You study your ass off."

"It's not about school, okay?" Roxas ground out, clenching his teeth.

"Touchy, touchy," Marluxia said, backing away in mock fear. "You know I only bother you because I care. And you've been like a zombie ever since that party at Namine's."

Roxas frowned in contemplation, shrugging.

Marluxia shook his head. "Like talking to a brick wall."

At present, Roxas was sitting on a scarred bench, patiently ignoring the drizzle lightly soaking him. He stared out at the ocean, at the rolling, crashing waves, and thought about how he got that same feeling in his stomach whenever Axel was around. He hugged his knees to his chest, biting down hard on his hand to suppress a scream.

"Hey, blondie."

Roxas darted around, looking for the entire world like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Droplets of water lined his hoodie and fringed his eyelashes.

"Axel," Roxas began, giving the older boy a quick once over. Despite the mild temperature the island regularly stayed at, he was dressed in a black turtleneck with holes in the sides for his thumbs to slip through. Oddly, his nails were painted a chipped shade of hot pink.

"That would be me," Axel confirmed, swinging up so he was sitting right next to Roxas. "Miss me?"

Roxas bit his lip hard, fingers fumbling to hide the bite marks on his hand. "No."

Axel laughed as if it was the funniest statement ever uttered, laughed until the rain trickling down his face became indistinguishable from the tears of laughter. Roxas, mildly irritated, swatted him.

"So what's the deal with you and Cloud?" Roxas found himself asking before his mental filter could force the words back down.

Axel's smile faded a little as he idly kicked his shoes against the damp pavement. "It's over. It… It wasn't really a 'thing,' y'know?"

"Oh." Roxas replied oh-so-intelligently, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. "I guess that's… I'm sorry."

Axel grinned. "For what?"

Roxas blushed deeply, turning his head away slightly. "Did you love him?"

"Hell no." Axel replied almost immediately, swinging his legs back and forth under the bench. "Love's for people who deserve it. Like you. Me, I'm just a drifter."

Roxas tilted his head quizzically. "You don't deserve to be loved? Who told you that?"

Axel chuckled, straightened. "No one had to."

"Why are you wearing long sleeves?" Roxas inquired, picking at the sleeve of Axel's turtleneck. He wasn't sure, but he thought he caught a wince.

"Don't worry about it." Axel soothed, brushing Roxas' hand away from his clothing. "I'm cold-natured."

"Bullshit." Roxas countered. "I know a cutter when I see one."

Axel looked vaguely surprised, like a deer in headlights. He shook it off and laughed a sad chuckle. "Where'd you get so smart, huh?" Axel leaned in. "Who cares if I cut? I'm only hurting myself. It's not a 'thing.'"

"It IS a 'thing!'" Roxas nearly yelled, jumping off the bench to glare at Axel accusingly. "You're hurting me, right now, right here." Roxas thumped a fist over his heart. "I had a friend once who did the same thing. Now he's fucking dead. How can you justify cutting yourself when you have people who'd miss you if you-"

Roxas was cut off by a sudden kiss. Axel gripped the sides of his head like Roxas was the air he breathed, the sustenance that kept him alive. Roxas returned the gesture, hands sliding easily across Axel's shoulders, his back. He barely felt the rain.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Roxas' cerulean eyes met Axel's emerald orbs. "Please stop. Please."

Axel grinned. "I'll give it a try. For you."

Roxas shoved him gently. "Try it for _you_. Not me."

"Can I ask you something?" Axel queried.

"Yeah." Roxas said, still a little dazed from the kiss.

"How would you like to be in my band?"

* * *

Cliffhangerrrr! Haha. Sorry it took so long for me to update this at all, but life has been crazy. REALLY crazy. Next update will be longer, and sooner too. I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

"I have a present for you," Axel began, strolling into Roxas' dorm room and flopping down on the bed as he always did. Axel was wearing short sleeves today, a green Smashing Pumpkins tee shirt that was almost the exact shade of his eyes, but with a black hoodie to hide his arms.

"Do you?" Roxas replied absently, currently waging a mental battle on the finer points of Civilization II.

"Get 'cher ass up and dress sexy. You have your first concert later and you should look sexy for it." Axel groused, digging through the mountains of clothing littering the floor until he picked out a pair of black and white pinstripe skinny pants and a black band tee.

"What is this surprise you keep talking about?" Roxas asked, accepting the clothes and squirming as Axel shoved him into the small dorm bathroom.

"You'll see, you'll see," Axel kept taunting, pulling at Roxas' shirt.

The surprise, as It happened to be, was a trip to the local tattoo parlor.

"I've always wanted snakebites." Roxas said reverently as he flipped through a book of piercings.

"Then snakebites you shall have!" Axel yelled, causing some of the passers-by to mutter.

Axel held his hand throughout the entire procedure, and it didn't really hurt as much as he'd expected it to. By the time it was over, Roxas had two shining half-moons of silver complimenting his coral lips.

"Now you look like a badass." Axel teased as he doled out the cash to a bored looking sales clerk with tattoos up to her neck. "You ready to sing for us?"

"With sore lips." Roxas confirmed, licking at one of his piercings.

* * *

To be backstage was to enter a world of vibrant color and sound. The blue light made Axel's hair look vaguely purple as he dragged Roxas through mic check.

"You never even told me what song I'm supposed to be singing!" Roxas protested as Axel prodded him around the stage.

"Up to you," Axel replied with a cheeky grin. "What do you want to sing?"

"Uhm… 'Mayday' by The Icarus Account?" Roxas suggested, blushing slightly. _Axel would laugh. Axel would hate that song._

"Sounds good to me, blondie." Axel answered with another of his Cheshire grins.

Roxas looked fairly girly up on stage, with his freshly pierced lips looking swollen enough to kiss. He was skinny, and the shirt hung off him artfully in a way that not many could achieve. His lips nearly brushed the microphone, and Roxas silently prayed that no one from school was in the crowd.

"Anytime you're ready." Demyx prodded, and Xion gave him the thumbs up.

Roxas took a deep breath and let the song pour out.

_Mayday, mayday_

_Someone save me_

_I am fragile_

_Oh, somebody rescue me_

_Oh, somebody tell me you will_

Despite the slow tempo of the song, many girls in the audience were screaming themselves hoarse. Roxas' cheeks turned pink as he sang, with both embarrassment and elation. The song was finished, it seemed, before it started, and cheers rang in Roxas' ears, making him feel dizzy with happiness.

"You fucking did it, kid!" Axel said backstage, giving Roxas a noogie.

"Not a kid. Just vertically challenged." Roxas mumbled, trying to hide his elation.

* * *

"So what does this mean for us?" Axel asked. The show has long since ended, and the two were strolling the moonlit beaches.

"There's an 'us?'" Roxas replied, praying he didn't sound as hopeful as he felt.

"Don't you want there to be?" Axel asked, fingers lightly brushing against Roxas'. "I want it."

"I want it too… but… things just seem like they're happening too fast." Roxas fumbled.

Axel frowned. "You don't have to punish yourself anymore, Roxas. It's not your fault."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roxas replied, which was a lie.

"Tell me more about Sora." Axel asked, the tails of his trench coat drifting like anemones. "You loved him, right?"

"I… I loved him." Roxas confirmed. "I… we were best friends. "We did everything together. He was my first kiss, my first… everything." Roxas took a moment to take note of Axel's expression, which was, at the moment, fully at attention.

"Sora was the beginning and ending of every day. He… he made me feel whole. Like we fit together like puzzle pieces." Roxas explained, fingers groping for a cigarette in his hoodie pocket. He lit up, breathed, exhaled. "Sora made me who I am today."

Axel seemed genuinely interested. "So he meant that much to you, huh? Man. I've never lost someone like that before. Unless you count my parents, and honestly that wasn't a very tragic loss."

It seemed like bad voodoo, talking about Sora to anyone but Riku. Roxas shrugged. "It's not as hard as it used to be. They found him right around here, you know." Roxas stood up suddenly, flopped down on the sand and gripped handfuls of grit and sea. "Just like this. He'd overdosed. He was on the beach."

Axel stared down from above, worry making a crease in his forehead. "I don't mean to bring up bad memories. I was just curious."

"It's okay," Roxas breathed, letting the salty air fill his lungs until they felt scraped raw.

Axel laid down beside Roxas, coaxing one sand-covered hand into his own. "You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything. Sora, or school, or… anything. I'll be there."

Roxas nodded, as much as he could with his head against the sand, tears welling in his eyes. "I miss him so fucking much, Axel. He made everything okay. He was the only one who ever understood that I wasn't going to shoot up the school or something. He understood-" Roxas bit off the end of the sentence; by now, tears were steadily trickling down his cheeks.

"Why the fuck did he have to die, Axel? Why did he leave me here alone? Did I mean that little to him?"

"Most likely it wasn't about you. My… cutting. It isn't about you, it's something else entirely. Not that that excuses it." Axel explained, giving Roxas' hand a little squeeze.

"Then what is it about?" Roxas asked, turning on his side so he could see Axel's reaction clearly.

"It's… it just makes me feel better. The endorphin rush. The sight of blood. It just… makes me feel better." Axel mumbled. Roxas could tell it was hard for Axel to talk about the issue. He'd been avoiding eye contact since the beginning of the conversation about the cutting.

"What happens if you hit a major artery or something? You gonna leave me here too?" Roxas asked, voice broken like a priceless mirror. Roxas shoved Axel, got up, dusted off the sand. "Am I that unimportant to you, that you'd just risk it all?"

"Roxas, chill. It's not like that at all. It's an addiction. It's like crack or meth or anything else." Axel said, jumping up and grabbing Roxas' arm. "Please. Try to understand."

Roxas frowned, swiped furiously at his face to erase all the traces of his tears and only succeeding in smudging the black eyeliner Axel had convinced him to don before the show. "I'm trying. I honestly am. I just don't see the point of it all. What's the point of living when all the people you love want to do is die?"

"I don't want to die." Axel nearly whispered. "I just want to _feel_."

"Then feel me. Feel this," Roxas begged, forcing their sandy palms together. "Can't that be enough? Can't it?"

"I… I don't know. I hope so." Axel answered, moonlight making his catlike eyes look otherworldly.

They laid there like that for a long time, Roxas sniffling, Axel rubbing comforting circles onto Roxas' hand. By morning, the beach was fierce with the promise of rain, and Roxas was long gone.


	7. Chapter 7

There comes a time in every person's life when they realize that they have reached bottom. From that point, the choices are rather simple- keep on falling, right through the proverbial floor, or look up and see the light.

Roxas realized that he had reached this point.

After waking from a particularly bad nightmare, he groped in his nearby messenger bag for something- anything- to dull the racing in his chest. There was Ativan, Xanax, and Valium, all safe and promising in their little orange bottles. He downed a couple of whatever his hand found first, a slight sweat beading on his forehead. He detangled himself from the cocoon of black bed sheets, stumbling into a pair of charcoal cargo pants and a random band tee. Donning flip-flops, he exited his dorm room, seeking succor in the eternal calm that was the beach.

* * *

The wind was perfect that day, cooling the uncomfortable heat that radiated from Roxas' skin. The salt and brine in the air revitalized his lungs.

Dangling his feet over the edge of the pier, Roxas thought about the last few days; the kindness that Axel had shown him. Chewing nervously at one of his lip piercings, Roxas fumbled in his pants pocket for his crushed pack of smokes. He lit up, cupping his hand around the flame so the wind wouldn't blow it out, and took a long drag. He found himself missing the aura of buzzing energy that seemed to radiate from Axel whenever he was near. Sighing a silvery cloud of smoke, Roxas rubbed furiously at his watering eyes.

"Am I interrupting anything?" A familiar voice spoke from behind him. Roxas didn't even need to turn around.

"Nah. Just… thinking." Roxas replied, swinging his feet idly. Axel settled down beside him, looking rather haggard himself with bloodshot eyes and hair that was even messier than normal.

"Thinking can be dangerous." Axel remarked, giving Roxas a slight nudge with his shoulder. Roxas coughed out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"I don't know what to do," Roxas said, his words sounding empty. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"So don't think." Axel replied with another nudge. "Just _do_. Live life to the fullest and all that shit. "

"It's not that easy," Roxas answered dully.

"If it was that easy, we'd all be fucking happy."

Roxas mulled over the words, flicking his cigarette into the tropical water and feeling mildly bad about it. "It's just hard."

"I know. Especially for people like us. We notice things that other people don't. We understand things that other people can't even _comprehend_." Axel said, his voice rising with each sentence. "Don't punish yourself for being what other people are afraid to be."

Roxas smiled wryly, letting a small chuckle emanate from his lips. "Why do you always seem to know just the right things to say?"

"Because I've been there before."

Roxas smiled, small but hopeful.

"Wanna go have some fun?" Axel suddenly piped up, jumping to his feet and offering Roxas his hand.

"Wha-?" Roxas mumbled, brain still fuzzy from sleep and Valium, unable to comprehend the sudden mood change.

"_Fun_. Y'know, that thing you never let yourself have." Axel reprimanded with a grin.

* * *

Roxas let Axel guide him downtown in his shitty Camry, pulling idly at the stuffing bursting forth from the side of the passenger's seat. Axel parallel parked, dug in his pocket for change to feed the parking meter. In front of them was a stylish hookah bar. A group of Indian looking men had set up tables outside, selling baubles and small idols of their beautiful and terrible gods. Axel nearly hopped to Roxas' side, pulling him into the sparsely populated shop.

A very friendly man at the counter let them pick their shisha. There were dozens of choices, but Roxas eventually settled on strawberry, while Axel opted for vanilla. They settled on a mix of the two. Clambering upstairs to a room filled with wall to wall oriental rugs, they picked their bong, a blue, gold-trimmed device that complimented Roxas' features perfectly. They ordered heaping plates of hummus, scooping it up with garlicky triangles of bread. Roxas felt flushed, sanguine. Axel just kept plying him with hummus and tokes, conversing easily.

"So when's the last time you cut?" Roxas asked bluntly. The mood markedly changed, Axel's Cheshire grin fading a few watts.

"Coupla days ago. I had to go to the clinic and get stitches. Figured I'd let up on the self-mutilation for awhile after that." Axel admitted, taking a long rip off the bong.

Roxas felt mildly horrified, his hands clenching into fists almost involuntarily. "How many?"

"Just six," Axel replied, tearing his napkin into infinitesimal pieces.

"_Just_?" Roxas' voice raised, causing some of the other patrons to look their way. "What exactly is it about your life that makes things so shitty that you have to cut yourself?"

"It's a headfuck. It's an addiction." Axel replied gently.

"I don't care. You're stronger than some stupid addiction. You're stronger than that," Roxas pleaded, gripping the sides of the table in his intensity.

"One would think." Axel ground out, standing up and tossing his napkin on the table. "Not here, okay? This was supposed to be fun."

"If things are so fun, then why do you cut? I don't understand!" Roxas exclaimed, tears springing to his eyes.

Axel sighed deeply, tossing down a couple of bills. "I think we should head back."

The drive home was completely silent.

* * *

Yes, this chapter was relatively short. I'm going through some serious shit in my life right now. Reviews would be a great comfort. I feel like this story is all I have to hold onto.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few days were a blur of Adderall and Nyquil, cigarettes pressed against Roxas' arms and the cashier at the mini mart asking, "What happened to your wrist?" Roxas, numb, had no time for lies or deception and quietly replied, "I burned myself with a cigarette." The cashier's face would inevitably become flushed, sorry that they asked, but Roxas was out the door before it really mattered.

The campus was abuzz with something about a party at Zexion's, his father gone for a business trip and an entire two story condo to themselves. Roxas debated spending the night in his dorm as he was wont to do when he came down with such bouts of depression, but something pulled at his heartstrings. He pulled on a Nirvana tee and a pair of bright red skinny jeans, lacing his black Converse quickly on the way out the door.

By the time he got there, the party was well underway. Someone had rigged up a sound system that surrounded the house, and Modest Mouse was playing at full volume while groups of partygoers swayed to the easy beat. Roxas, who'd brought his own bottle, took a swig of Chartreuse, throat burning as the liquor snaked and burned its way down his throat.

In the dying embers of a bonfire, Roxas spotted a familiar face and froze. There- strumming an acoustic guitar, polished to a sheen- was Riku, hair like liquid mercury and eyes like chips of aquamarine beach glass. Roxas picked nervously at a black painted nail, tried to remain unseen in the crowd. It wasn't long, though, before those jewel-like eyes spotted him, lighting up as if backlit.

"Roxas!" Riku called from his seat on a slab of driftwood. "Come, sit."

_Come. Sit. As if he were a dog._

Roxas padded through the crowd, taking a seat beside the silver haired boy. Roxas looked from Riku's scarred arms with their chain and hemp bracelets, to the chipped neon green polish on his nails, to the tiny Buddha tattooed on one of his knuckles, opposite the legend FTW tattooed on the junction between his thumb and index finger; fuck the world.

Riku was picking out a pleasant tune, a juxtaposition of the mood between the two. Roxas finally got the urge to look higher than waist level, to the leather thong around Riku's neck from which hung a silver pentagram and a clear quartz crystal.

"We need to talk about the other day," Riku started, strumming a few upbeat chords, swiping at his eyes with his forearm. "Things got out of hand."

"Yeah." Roxas replied numbly, wringing his hands. "I had bruises."

Riku paused in his strumming, smirking, "That hard, huh?"

"Mm-hm," Roxas confirmed, kicking up a torrent of sand. "Hurt for a few days."

"Can't say I'm too sorry." Riku admitted, setting the guitar aside and turning that aquamarine gaze on Roxas. "You _did_ just leave me to pick up the pieces after… well… y'know."

"I know." Roxas ground out. "His mom gave me a box of his old stuff. I was going to go through it with you."

"But you didn't." Riku said flatly, looking grim in his black clothing and dark expression.

"I couldn't do it, Riku. It was too much too fast. I'm sorry if things got caught up-" Roxas tried, but Riku interrupted, shaking his head.

"No excuses."

"Right." Roxas whispered.

The fire crackled suddenly, making Roxas jump. A few partygoers stumbled by, laughing raucously, flinging sand in their flip flops and high heels.

"I'm sorry." Roxas mumbled, looking at Riku through teary eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just… it just hurt me so much that I wasn't thinking of anyone else."

Riku seemed to ponder this, biting his lower lip thoughtfully. "Not even your best friends?"

Roxas frowned. "No one."

Riku shook his head, sparking up a joint with a Zippo engraved to look like an ace of spades. "That's harsh."

"Everyone had their own way of dealing with it. Why can't you just-" Roxas threw up his hands. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"I'm not like Sora. I'm not as forgiving, and I'm definitely not as naïve." Riku answered, flipping the Zippo closed deftly and slipping it back inside his trench coat pocket. "Things have changed."

"You're right about that," Roxas replied, licking at his snakebites. "I don't know if things can ever be the same."

"Roxy! Who's the friend?" A voice came floating out of the din.

Roxas' face lit up as he recognized Axel in a red and black striped tee shirt and green cargo pants. "Axel…" Roxas started, too relieved to continue. "… This is Riku."

Riku stuck his hand out robotically, and Axel shook it firmly. "I'm Axel. Roxas' friend."

"It's nice to know that Roxas is making friends." Riku stated, bumping shoulders with Roxas. "It was touch and go with us for awhile. Roxas hasn't really been keeping in contact ever since… Sora."

"This Sora kid must've been a helluva guy. I keep hearing all about him. Wish I coulda met him." Axel said, moving to sit beside Roxas, opposite Riku.

"He was incredible. He… he made my life." Riku stated, sucking in the last dregs of his joint before putting it out on the bottom of his shoe.

Roxas leaned back, looked up at the stars spread out like a holey blanket in the sky, and thought, _maybe this can work._

* * *

Still going through some hard times, people. I really do apologize for the short chapters, and believe it or not, a lot of this story is based on real life (i.e., the cigarette burning, the Nyquil, etc.) I hope this clears up some of the confusion about Riku. There's more to come, people. Just keep reviewing and I'll keep producing.


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